


When Therapy Fails

by luminescence2



Category: One Direction
Genre: Ambiguous Backstory, Angst, Death, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grief, Group Therapy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oneshot, PTSD, Sadness, Self Harm, Therapy, Trigger Warnings, death takes place before the story, niall is kind of a dick in it towards the end not gonna lie, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:05:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminescence2/pseuds/luminescence2
Summary: where therapy fails, harry styles succeeds





	When Therapy Fails

"Tell me more about those feelings," the therapist said, giving Louis a pointed look. As if he knows better. As if he understands. As if he's been through worse. Yeah, right. Hell, I'm sure the worst thing he's ever been through is not being able to keep his fucking roots dyed. God, I don't even know what I'm doing here. Louis sat up straighter, crossing his arms. 

"Why don't you do some talking, huh? I feel like I'm just rambling on to a brick wall. You're a therapist, why not therapy me a little bit?" He said coldly. The therapist, a young man by the name of Niall Horan, adjusted his glittery spectacles and carefully placed a lock of hair behind his ear. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together and looking down at Louis as if he was a child. 

"Now Louis," he said softly, sweetly. "I can't tell you what you want to hear. That would be lying, and I can't lie to you, because that won't help you. If you want me to help you—,“ Louis had stopped listening. Because those words, those sickly sweet words had reminded him of somebody else. Somebody he did not want to think of. And then he felt it. The cold trickle of fear spreading down his back, and the tightening of his muscles. His jaw clenched together, and his palms began to sweat. The therapists words faded away, while Louis' eyes widened and he gasped. 

He was sitting in his bedroom, his horrible, dark bedroom of his childhood with the bloodstains on the rug. Louis, feeling very cold yet warm at the same time, as if he were running a very high fever, turned around, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He could not see or hear his father, but he could sense him nearby, ready to pounce. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he looked down at his hand, only to see himself clutching that godforsaken razor. 

He tried to drop it, but he couldn't, and then he started to bring it to his wrist. One slice to end the pain. One slice to bring it to life. Over and over again, and the pain wouldn't stop and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't focus, and there was his father screaming at him and a fist to his face, and he was writhing in pain, so much pain, so much unbearable pain, and then it was gone. 

Louis was back in his therapists' office, lying on the couch, his hair sticking to his forehead and his heart racing. Niall was kneeling down next to him, clutching his hand, which was holding his so tight his knuckles were white. Louis felt as if a ghost had just entered the room, if not worse. Niall slowly helped Louis sit up, and gave him a glass of water. Louis, trying to return his breathing to normal, downed the water, which seemed to help clear his head. He checked and rechecked his wrist, but the scars were faded, old. 

"What was that one about? What triggered it?" Niall asked, his voice grave and serious. It was the first time Louis had ever had an episode in front of his therapist. He swallowed, and kept looking around the room, not making eye contact with Niall. "It, uh, it was about my father, and the cutting, and when my father basically tried torturing me, but he didn't, but he did, but not in real life," Louis stammered, losing his train of thought. 

"Louis, look at me," Niall said, catching his hand, which had been running over the fabric of the couch. Louis looked at Niall, but didn't feel reassured. In fact, he felt slightly afraid. He, after all, had triggered the flashback. "You need to remind yourself, when you're having these episodes, that it's not real, and that you have control over what happens, what the outcome is," he instructed, but Louis wasn't really listening. He remembered how he had failed at finding the happiness in his pathetic life, and he didn't see how what Niall was asking him to do was any different. 

Niall leaned back in his chair, and reached over into his desk drawer. He produced a piece of parchment with a date and address printed on it, handing it toward Louis. He picked it up gingerly, peering at it. He looked up at Niall. He gestured to the parchment. "I can tell that your sessions with me aren't helping, and so I think it'd be a good idea for you to start going to group therapy. There are people who have the same disease you do, and perhaps hearing from them will help you heal and help give you some understanding. You're not alone in this, Louis, not anymore," 

Niall reached into his drawer again, and scribbled something down on another piece of parchment, and handed it to Louis, who looked at it hesitantly. "Meanwhile," Niall continued. "I want to start you on medication, twice a day, every day, until you feel you don't need it," Louis cut her off. "I don't need medication!" he exclaimed, feeling slightly offended. He had every right to be a little stressed. After all, it had only been mere weeks since his sister committed suicide and his father had finally been put in prison. Niall slammed his hand on the table between him and Louis, startling Louis in the process. 

"You have PTSD, Louis, that's Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and your episodes have become often, and in some cases, violent. Now, I know that you want to get better, but having a little assistance does not mean that you are weak or less of a man, or whatever you think. I'm just trying to keep you safe, and the people around you safe. Now, attend group therapy once a week, take your medication as prescribed, and if you don't then I will continue scheduling these little one-on-one meetings until you can no longer say you suffer from PTSD-related flashbacks! Do you understand me?" he finished, a few of his strands of hair becoming loose and entangled. 

Louis, utterly taken aback, nodded quickly, his eyes wide. He never thought Niall the therapist would lash out at him like that. Niall waved his arm. "You can go. I'll be checking in with the director of group therapy, so don't think I won't know if you don't show up," he warned, as Louis hastily got up and headed toward the door. Just as he was twisting the doorknob, Niall caught his attention again. Groaning, Louis turned around. 

"If it makes you feel better, Louis," he said, not looking at him. "There's someone in group therapy that I'm sure you'll recognize," Louis waited for more, but Niall was silent, having preoccupied himself with paperwork. Louis turned around, and opened the door, walking briskly outside, and then hailing, eager to get as far away from Niall Horan as possible. 

 

 

"I really think that it'll help you, Louis," Liam said kindly, patting his hand awkwardly. Louis sighed, and looked to Zayn for his opinion. He shrugged his shoulders, and scooted closer to Liam. "I agree with Li mate. I mean, you almost broke Nick’s jaw last week," he pointed out. That just made Louis angry. He immediately went on the defensive, but Zayn stopped him, holding up a hand. 

"Hey, I know you didn't mean to. Of course you didn't mean to. But that doesn't mean you're not a danger. I say go to group therapy at least once, and then if it's just awful, go back to Niall the therapist," he saved. Louis, fuming, settled back into his chair. He looked at his two best friends in the entire world, and he didn't see that cloudy fear in their eyes. They seemed absolutely fine. Why was it always Louis? "Why don't you guys go to therapy?" he blurted out. 

Liam started, but then looked over at Zayn, and then back at Louis, an almost guilty look on his face. "Erm," he said. "Well, I have Zayn, you see, and he has me, and we just kind of cope, together," His face flushed and he looked down. Zayn nodded approvingly, and reached out and placed his hand on Louis' knee. He leaned in closer, checking his surroundings to make sure they were alone. The flat was silent. 

"Why don't you just talk to Nick?" he whispered. Louis groaned, and stood up, pacing. He ran a hand through his hair and clenched his eyes shut and then reopened them. He turned around to face Zayn. "Because," he whispered, his jaw taunt. "I left him, Zayn. It was just too painful to be around him, and I couldn't appreciate him the way he deserves to be appreciated, and, and, he just can't help me, okay? Don't ask me again," He finished, dismissively. 

Zayn stared at him a moment, and then shrugged his shoulders again, leaning back. Louis checked his watch. If he wanted to be only a little bit late he should leave now. He grabbed his jacket and his wallet, waved goodbye to Zayn and Liam, and went out into the garden. He pulled out the piece of parchment with the address and clearly visualized the streets and building. Before he knew it, he was zooming off in the cab, headed towards what was sure to be the worst afternoon of his life. 

After the uncomfortable sensation of almost suffocating was over, Louis found himself standing outside of what seemed to be an old gym. He pulled his hood off carefully, and walked inside. “Hello?" Louis whispered, and the light flooded the dimly light hallways, spurred by his movement no doubt. He could hear voices towards the end of the hallway, to the left, and he walked toward it. As he approached the door the voices got louder, and he thought he recognized it, but he didn't pay it much attention. 

Louis stopped outside the door, which bore the sign Clarity Group Therapy. Louis thought vaguely that signs that rhyme don't sound too inviting, but opened the door anyway. There was a short little vestibule that opened up into what Louis assumed was the gymnasium, and he made to go inside, but a voice stopped him. A voice that was eerily familiar. And it was speaking his name. Louis, frozen to where he stood, listened, straining his ears to hear more clearly. 

"Louis Tomlinson saved my life. Lord knows I didn't deserve it, not after all I had put him through. And yet, he did. He showed me kindness when I had only shown him hatred and disgust. You see, Louis and I were bitter enemies all throughout our tenure in high school, and I blame myself for that. He denied my hand in friendship, and I took it personally, too personally. I bullied Louis Tomlinson constantly, incessantly, without stop. And he never stooped to my level. He mostly ignored me, and when he didn't, he was sticking up for his friends. He was so loyal, unwavering, and it made me furious. I think perhaps that his loyalty and his honesty, and his morality are what made me want to hurt him. He was everything that I wanted to be but couldn't, because if I ever was, I knew I would be shunned by my friends and my family," Louis, heart racing, breathing ragged, listened harder, desperate to turn the corner and see the face of the person he knew was talking about him. 

The voice continued. "If I could say anything to Louis Tomlinson, it would be I'm sorry. I would just apologize for everything I ever did, all the horrible and awful things that I did, and I know that you guys will tell me that I was forced to do those things, forced to be who I was, but I could've done something more to stop him, to stop myself, and I didn't. And for that I will be forever ashamed of. I would say all of that to Louis Tomlinson, and I would hope that he would forgive me. And if he didn't, well, I can't say I blame him. Could you? Thank you," he stopped speaking, and the rest of the group, a small group of boys and girls young and old spoke in unison, "We believe in you," 

Another person, the leader of the group, perhaps, took to what Louis assumed was a stage, and began speaking. Louis wanted to run away, to not go into that room and confront his worst enemy, his worst enemy who had just repented, asked for forgiveness. He did not want to face that, because he knew that the moment he laid eyes on Harry Styles, he would have an episode, a flashback. And he did not want to have a fit in front of everyone. Honestly, he didn't believe he had anymore room for more humiliation. But, as luck would have it, as soon as Louis turned around, the leader saw him.  
"Oh, hello? Who's there?" he called. Louis froze, mentally cursing himself for not being stealthier, and slowly, stiffly turned back around. "Come on out and join us, we were just getting ready to go around the circle and introduce ourselves," the leader beckoned. Louis took a deep breath, vowed not to find Harry Styles in the group, and stepped out of the shadows. He heard a few gasps and whispers, but Louis kept his gaze firmly toward the leader, who was a young man with sandy brown hair and green eyes. He smiled at him, and motioned for him to come closer. 

"Ah, yes, Niall told me you would be coming, Mr. Tomlinson," the leader said, pulling Louis up to his level. He held out his hand, which Louis shook quickly, dropping his hand as soon as was appropriate. He didn't dare look out to the group, even though he could feel Harry’s eyes burning holes through his back. "My name is Connor, and I'm the lead therapist for this group. Now, if you'll just have a seat next to, oh, how about Mr. Styles?" Louis' heart plummeted and he could feel his face growing hot. Connor gave him a little shove, and Louis stumbled over and fell into the chair next to Harry, not looking at him, not even acknowledging him. Connor grinned. 

"Niall told you that you might recognize Mr. Styles, Mr. Tomlinson. Is it true? Because Mr. Styles was just talking about you earlier," Connor said. Louis heard Harry’s fist clench around his chair, and he couldn't resist any longer. He sideways glanced at Harry, and saw that his face was crimson, and his knuckles were white. His hair was still the same chocolate shade, curls carefully swept the side, and his eyes were still green, but they were different. It didn't take Louis long to realize that they had the same cloudy film over them, a cloud of fear. Just like Louis'. Harry's eyes flickered over to Louis, and they met, but only for a moment, because Louis turned away just then and gave Connor a small nod. 

"Yeah, I know who he is," he said bitterly. 

 

"So, how was it?" Zayn asked excitedly as Louis entered the flat. Louis shrugged his shoulders, hanging up his cloak. "The therapy itself kind of dragged, but you'll never guess who else was there," he said, going into the kitchen and pouring himself a cup a tea. Liam and Zayn followed him, settling down at the kitchen table. The remnants of a lunchtime meal remained on the table, and Louis nibbled on a piece of spare bread while sitting down. 

"Who was there?" Liam pressed. Louis swallowed, and leaned forward. “Harry Styles," he said quietly. Liam and Zayn gasped, and looked at each other, then back at Louis. "Was he, like, totally embarrassed when he saw you?" Zayn asked. His face was bright, full of gHarry, probably imagining Harry’s red face. Louis chuckled a bit and nodded. "Well, actually, I overheard his little speech to the group before I walked in, and it was about me," Louis said. Zayn clapped his hands over his mouth, his eyes widening. 

"Wow! What was he saying?" Zayn asked, not trying to keep the cheeriness out of his voice. Liam slapped his shoulder. "Guys, stop it! Just because Harry is a foul, rotten piece of shit doesn't mean we should gossip at his expense. Don't sink to his level," he said, eyeing Louis suspiciously. He looked away, becoming suddenly interested in the roll he was nibbling at. 

Zayn rebuffed Liam. "Oh, come on, Liam. After all the stuff he's done, a little gossip is nothing. And it's not like Louis' going to go and repeat everything to Harry. He hates him more than we do!" he said, turning back to Louis. "Go on, then, tell me everything," He waved his hands toward Louis, who, after ignoring Liam's angry stare, relayed the whole entire speech to Zayn. 

After he was done, Zayn was speechless. He just stared at Louis, shocked and in awe, his jaw hanging wide open. Even Liam couldn't deny that what Harry said was very un-Harry of him. Louis sat back in his chair, waiting for a response. Zayn was first, speaking slowly. "Fuck, Louis. I never in my life expected to hear Harry asking for forgiveness, or offering up an apology, fuck,” he repeated, his eyes wandering. Louis just nodded, silently agreeing. 

Liam offered, as usual, a more intellectual response. "Maybe something happened to him, to make him change his mind about you. You should talk to him, Louis, see if you can maybe try and forgive him. Everyone deserves a second chance," he said softly. Louis' eyes popped. He was not expecting Liam to side with Harry. "Are you kidding me, Liam? You just called him foul," Louis exclaimed, sitting up straighter. 

Liam held his own, crossing his arms and giving Louis a demeaning glare. "I know that, Louis, but people change and you heard what he said. He wants to apologize to you, and he can't do that if you just ignore him. It can't hurt to just clear the air. I never said you had to accept the apology. But maybe it'll make Harry feel better if he gets the chance to explain himself. You saw how he was, right before you had your breakdown. He only was horrible to you because his parents forced their prejudices onto him. Give him the benefit of the doubt," Liam finished. Louis couldn't believe what he was hearing. Out of all people, Louis least suspected Liam of supporting Harry, because after all, most of Harry's hatred was directed toward him and his sexuality. Zayn couldn't believe his ears either, because he was staring at Liam as if he didn't know who he was. 

"Liam, he doesn't deserve second chance. He had every opportunity to right his wrongs during his whole time at school, and what did he do? He tried to hurt us, do you remember that? We've already saved his life once, and if he's all bent up with guilt and anguish, well then good! I for one, am glad he's so depressed. Now can we just drop it. Louis, you're not going to hear Harry Styles out, do you understand me?" Zayn said, looking for Louis' nod of approval. 

But Louis didn't respond, because perhaps Liam was right. After all, Louis thought, sometimes good people do bad things. And Harry wanted to repent. He wanted to forgive. And Louis agreed with Liam, he didn't have to accept Harry's apology. Louis knew what it felt like to feel utterly alone, depressed, and guilty. He suffered from it still. Harry may not have PTSD, but he didn't emerge out of the battle unharmed. 

"Liam's right," Louis said finally. Zayn groaned, throwing his arms up in the air and muttering something along the lines of 'don't even know why I compete with him,' and slouched down in his chair. Liam smiled at Louis, but Louis held up his hand. "However, hearing out Harry does not mean I forgive him for his crimes or for all the awful things he has done to us over the years. He is a horrible human being who deserves to have suffered with us all senior year, but he didn't, while a lot of good people did. But I know that there is nothing worse than feeling completely isolated, alone, and so if speaking a few empty words to me makes him feel better, then I will stand there and listen, and then promptly leave and never speak it him again, do you understand me?" 

Louis glared at Zayn and Liam, until they nodded. Louis returned the nod, and stood up. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go outside before I start to have a flashback of Harry Styles. I'd like to be left alone," he said. He had begun to feel the cold trickle down his back about midway through his little speech, and he had tried to suppress it, but he knew that the more he suppressed it, the worse it was going to be. He had to get to the garden. 

He made it to the little hedge where the moles liked to hide, and then closed his eyes, waiting for it to happen. Any second. 

 

“Are you kidding me?” Louis protested, giving Connor the leader an ice-cold glare. Connor had paired up the members of the group, and ordered them to try trust-falls. All they had to do was extend their arms and catch the other person before they slammed on their back onto the hard, shiny hardwood of the gym floor. And of course, Louis had been paired up with Harry. 

Harry seemed just as reluctant as Louis, though he wasn’t voicing his concern. It made Louis feel a bit irritated, as if Harry was trying to make Louis feel like a whiner. Connor crossed his arms. “Now, Mr. Tomlinson, you need to be able to establish trust between people. You need to surround yourself by those who understand best what you’re going through. By entrusting Mr. Styles to catch you, you break down a little piece of that wall you’ve built up. And that wall is what’s causing you to have violent, PTSD-related flashbacks,” he explained curtly, clearly letting Louis know that there was no way he was going to get out of the exercise. 

All the other pairs had already begun, and they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Louis swore at Connor under his breath, and turned back to face Harry. He looked at him, mustering all the hatred he could, and nodded. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, walking behind Harry. Harry twisted to look at him over his shoulder. “I’d prefer to keep my spine straight, Tomlinson, if you don’t mind,” he said, his voice cold and silky. Louis glared at him, his hand clenching tighter. He’d have to pay careful attention not to hit Harry instead of catch him. Harry turned back around, held out his arms like a lunatic, and fell. 

Louis extended his arms lazily, catching Harry in just the knick of time, letting his head bump the ground slightly. Harry, being his typical self, screwed up his face in anger, jumping up and running a hand through his gelled hair, messing it. “That barely counts as catching, Tomlinson!” he said, quietly but forcefully. Louis shrugged his shoulders, knowing that he would pay for it when Harry caught him. He kept himself balanced, just in case he needed to catch himself, and walked in front of Harry. 

He took a deep breath, prepared himself for an awful headache, and let gravity take him. To his complete surprise, Louis' feet had fallen only a few millimeters before he was floating on air, on comfortable, soft, air. Harry’s arms. He opened his eyes, and noticed that he was a few feet in the air. He almost tried to struggle and squirm out of Harry’s grasp, believing that Harry would drop him from this height, but he felt himself lowering. Ever so gently, with the lightest touch, Harry lowered him to the ground. 

When his body touched the hard floor, it was painless, as if Louis had been lying on the ground for hours. He didn’t stay there for long, instead got up quickly. Connor rushed over, applauding Harry. “Very well done, Mr. Styles, well done. See everyone, that is what you are aiming for! Mr. Tomlinson should have complete and unwavering trust now,” Connor grinned from ear to ear, and clapped Harry on the shoulder. Harry just looked embarrassed, his face red and his eyes trained on the floor. 

Connor clasped his hands together, and used the moment to end the session. “Great meeting today, everyone, I think we’ve made great progress in healing ourselves from our past. I will see all of you next Wednesday, but remember! We are meeting at the local gym, because unfortunately, school is back in session for the kiddos, and they must need this gym back. And to be honest, I’m getting quite tired of having to upkeep the place. You guys are dismissed,” 

The rest of the group left quietly, and in pairs, chattering amongst themselves. Louis made to leave, alone as usual, but Connor called him back. “Uh, Mr. Tomlinson and Mr. Styles, if you could just stay a moment,” he said. Louis sighed, not wanting to spend another second with Harry. But, being the good samaritan he is, he turned around and walked up to Connor. 

Connor smiled his usual therapist-y smile. He looked from Harry to Louis. “I’ve noticed some tension between you two these past couple of meetings,” he said. To Louis' annoyance, Connor sat down, and Harry and Louis copied. This was going to take more than a moment. Connor’s voice echoed around the gym, forcing Louis to hear his words twice. Louis glanced at Harry, who was staring at him. Louis looked away immediately, and shrugged his shoulders. Connor continued. “Am I correct in saying that you two did not get along during your tenures at Memorial High?” he asked. Louis felt his face heat up. He wouldn’t—no, he couldn’t—talk about Memorial. Harry answered Connor. “Yeah, you could say that,” he said simply. Connor clasped his hands together, leaning forward. “And am I correct in saying that your dislike of each other extended to the point of extreme violence?” Louis tried breathing evenly, like Niall the therapist had suggested, but it wasn’t helping. 

If Connor didn’t shut up, Louis was going to have an episode right in front of his worst enemy. He tried to speak. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Connor nodded to himself, leaning back in his chair. He gestured to Louis and Harry. Louis didn’t really notice, he was too busy trying to keep his composure. “You both need to let your past go. It’s hindering your progress. You need to focus on the present and on the future, because the past is gone and hating each other for the rest of eternity is not going to change it or bring it back,” Connor said, but his words were fading. 

Louis felt it. The familiar trickle of ice water down his back, the sweaty palms. His eyes could not focus on one thing, instead flitting from object to object. “I believe, Mr. Tomlinson, that Mr. Styles would like to personally apologize to you, if you’d let him,” And then the scene around Louis disappeared as if Louis had dunked his head into ice water, and Louis was in his bedroom, and Lottie had just downed the pills to her death. And then Harry was there, except something was off. His face wasn’t completely formed. It was like orbs of jelly, without noses, mouths, eyes, or any facial features to speak of. A high-pitched laugher was hurting Louis' ears, and when he tried to move, he realized that his whole body was cold, lifeless. His heart was racing, his eyes were teary, and he screamed and screamed, producing no sound, as the faceless Harry inched his way toward him. 

“Louis! Mr. Tomlinson! It’s not real, it’s just your mind playing tricks on you! You need to suppress it,” Connor’s voice came through, saving Louis. He looked around, desperate for a savior, and tried closing and opening his eyes, anything to get rid of the scene around him. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t. The faceless figures of Harry could not hurt him. He tried to move, but it was hard, so hard. Harry was coming closer. Louis held up his hand to protect himself, and then he felt someone grab it. Someone who was not going to hurt him, in whose hand Louis felt the pressure of trust, of loyalty. 

And then Louis opened his eyes and he was back in the gymnasium, and he was on the floor, with Connor kneeling in front of him. Louis took a few deep breaths, and then realized that someone was holding his hand, it wasn’t just in the flashback. He followed the hand up to Harry, who quickly dropped it, and stepped away. Louis was confused. Why would Harry take Louis' hand? They weren’t friends, and Louis hadn’t forgiven him yet, despite the apology he overheard. Connor noticed the tension, and helped Louis stand up. 

“I think,” he said, looking at Louis. “That Mr. Styles has something to tell you,” And then Connor left, leaving Louis alone with Harry, in a gym where everything echoed, and there was nowhere for Louis to hide. 

Harry stood in the same spot, his hands in his pockets. Louis hadn’t really noticed before, but Harry still dressed in the same all-black suit that was his style, and it made him look very tall and very powerful at first glance. But as Louis stared, he noticed the looseness of Harry’s arms, the slope of his shoulders, and most revealing, his eyes. They were clouded with fear, just like Louis'. 

Louis had yet to come across someone who shared the same milky film, but now he had found that someone. He never in his wildest dreams imagined it being Harry Styles. Louis swayed and then broke the silence. “Just say it,” he prompted, holding out his hands. Harry, as though awoken from a slumber, flinched and looked at him, and then nodded. 

He began pacing, running his hand through his hair, and breathing quite loudly. “I don’t really know how to start,” he said, not making eye contact with Louis. Louis stood there, feeling extremely awkward, and wanting nothing more than to vanish away. He could if he wanted to, but something was keeping him rooted to the spot. “I just want to say I’m sorry, and I know that that is an empty word to you, I know that, but I need to say it,” Harry looked up and locked eyes with Louis, making Louis feel very uncomfortable indeed, but Louis could not ignore the look of desperation in Harry’s eyes, through the permanent veil of fear. Harry continued. 

“I’d say it a thousand times if that’s what it took for you to forgive me. I don’t ever expect you to forgive me, hell, I won’t ever forgive me. The things that I did, the things I said, they were—they are—despicable, and unforgivable, and I know I’m going to rot in hell, I’ve come to terms with that, but what I haven’t come to terms with is you,” Harry stopped pacing, and pierced Louis with such an intensity Louis felt his whole body go cold. Not from fear, but from anticipation. He found himself wanting to listen to what Harry had to say, to really listen. 

“I know that you believe that I’m saying this for my own benefit, to make myself better, to clear my conscience, but I’m not. I’m saying this so that perhaps you can begin to understand that I have realized my mistakes, and I have come to form remorse, and regret. I have so much regret. I never should’ve let my parents influence me the way they did, I never should have bullied you, and I most certainly never should have become the hateful person I did. But you have no idea, the power they had over me. I’m not making excuses, I’m not, but it was impossible, if I refused they would disown me—,” And with that Louis saw a flicker of something darker within Harry, something more sinister. 

But Louis didn’t have time to comprehend it, because Harry had stopped pacing, and was standing only a few inches away from Louis. Louis could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of him. “I need you to forgive me, Louis. Please, for if you don’t, then I don’t have anything left. You’re the only person who can help me heal, because you’re the only person left who completely understands where I’m coming from. You’ve seen them, you survived so much, you’re stronger than I am. Please, help pull me out of this hole that I’ve dug myself into,” Harry pleaded, his eyes shining. 

Louis was dumbfounded, not quite believing his ears. Harry was asking him, no, begging him to forgive him, as if Louis' forgiveness was his saving grace. And Louis could not deny how genuine Harry was being. He had only seen Harry this vulnerable and broken once, and Harry was not asking for forgiveness that time. He looked up at Harry, who was a bit taller than him, and swallowed. And then he nodded, a quick jerk of the head. Harry didn’t react at first, except for his eyes. His eyes widened, and from behind the veil of fear, there was a small flicker of hope. Harry stepped back, cleared his throat, and gave a nonchalant nod. And then, as if the realization of all that he had said was just dawning on him, his face turned bright red, and before Louis could respond, he ran off, leaving only the scent of the past behind. 

Louis didn’t move, his mouth half-open, with no words forming. He tried to find the hatred for Harry within him, but he couldn’t. Instead, all of his memories of Harry were tainted with sympathy, were stained with what Harry had just said. Louis could not hate Harry after his speech, how could he? It was impossible. What would Zayn and Liam think? Louis couldn’t go back and tell them that he whole-heartedly forgave Harry, and was even considering reaching out to him. 

They wouldn’t understand. And so Louis made the decision to keep his feelings to himself, to keep them buried deep, where nobody would ever be able to touch them. Except for maybe one person. 

 

“Fucking hell,” Zayn said. “Fucking hell,” He looked up at Louis, tortured. “Mate,” he said slowly, moving towards Louis. Louis felt a bit alarmed, but he knew that Zayn was constantly overreacting about small things. Zayn was adamant though, grabbing onto Louis' arms and shaking him slightly. 

“What if he likes you?” He finished. Louis looked up at him, and then burst out laughing. Even Liam was giggling. “Come on, Zayn, listen to yourself! Harry does not like me, he just feels sorry for me! Feels sorry for himself too. Honestly, listening to all that made me want to vomit,” Louis said, though he felt that he was saying wasn’t entirely true. 

Liam gave him a look from the drawing room. “Louis, from what you’ve told me, he sounded pretty sincere. Even I would forgive him and I heard the apology secondhand. If it gives him peace just go along with it,” he said. Louis ran a hand through his hair, repeating himself once again. “Like I said before, Liam, I did accept his apology. I just didn’t give a big speech to go along with it,” Louis sat down at the kitchen table, and twirled his phone around in his hand. 

Zayn sat down across from him, his wild theory apparently irrelevant now. “Hey, did you hear that the court has subpoenaed us? You, me, and Li?” he cried, as if suddenly remembering. Louis gave him a confused look. “What the hell is a subpoena?” he asked, feeling as if he should know it. Zayn shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not exactly sure. It’s a legal term, uh, Liam?” Zayn looked over his shoulder to Liam, who rolled his eyes and sat down the enormous book he had been reading. 

“Basically the court has summoned us to testify in court against Sam. He’s finally being put to justice, the dick. Personally, I’m looking forward to testifying against him,” Liam explained. Zayn turned back to Louis, but Louis was beginning to feel worried. He didn’t know if he could handle seeing Sam in the flesh. Yes, the group therapy was helping, but perhaps he ought to pay a visit to Niall the therapist before going into court. 

“We’re scheduled to show up on Friday, at noon. I just thought we could all go at the same time. You don’t have any plans, do you, Louis?” Zayn asked, a strange look of anticipation on his face. He must be excited too. Was Louis the only one that was nervous? Well, I am the only one who has PTSD, he reminded himself. He sighed, pulling some parchment and a quill towards him. “What’re you doing?” Zayn questioned, trying to lean around to see Louis' face. 

“I’m writing to Niall. I don’t think I can see Sam in person without killing him or having an episode,” 

 

“I was very glad to get your message, Louis,” Niall said as he opened the door to his office. Louis walked in the familiar room, and sat down in his same spot. Niall set out the same pot of tea as always, and his pen was poised to scribble, just like always. Her pin curls, on point as usual, bounced a bit as he made himself comfortable. 

Louis swallowed, and rested his hands on his knees. “I just want to say thank you, for, uh, for sending me to group therapy. I think it’s helping,” he said nervously. Niall smiled. “That’s great, Louis. I’m glad to see you’re making progress. And Connor told me that you got a chance to reconnect with Harry Styles. Is everything okay there?” he asked, her smile unable to mask his look of concern. Louis suspected he knew all about Louis and Harry’s dark past. Louis shrugged his shoulders. 

“He apologized to me, and I forgave him, sort of, and we’re both just trying to forget the past and move on,” Louis explained. Yeah, he liked that answer. It was truthful enough. Niall nodded, his pen scribbling away. “Is there any chance for friendship?” he pressed. Louis shook his head almost immediately. Niall nodded again, but changed the subject away from Harry. 

“Now, the court has contacted me about you’re being subpoenaed. I assume that’s why you wrote me?” Niall prompted. Louis wasn’t surprised that the court went through his therapist. Practically everybody went through his therapist nowadays. He thought it’d have slowed down by now—it was really bad when word got out that Louis Tomlinson had a shrink—but apparently not. Louis jerked his head yes and Niall continued. 

“And I’ve been told that you’ve been asked to testify against Sam Gills, former physics teacher at Memorial. Tell me about him,” Niall sat back, allowing Louis to speak. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and form them into words. He had to avoid freaking out. “Well, he, uh, he made me feel like I was all alone, and he was very good at it. He almost had me convinced that I was a liar. He turned my friends against me, and he ruined Memorial during his time there, even as a teacher. He caused me to start cutting—along with my father, and the way he was obsessed with power, it just, it reminded me of, well, my father. It was like he was an extension of him,” Louis shivered involuntarily, and stopped speaking. 

Niall was nodding slowly, his eyes slightly closed. “Very interesting,” he murmured. “And I’m guessing that you’re worried that Mr. Gills will trigger some sort of violent reaction or episode out of you, am I correct?” Louis nodded. As much as he disliked one-on-one therapy, he had to admit, Niall Horan was good. Niall nodded to himself, as if coming to a conclusion. “Well, Louis, I can’t cure your PTSD in three days, because if I could, well, I’d have done it already. What I can do is prescribe you some medication,-“ Louis cut Niall off, jumping up from his chair. 

“No!” he shouted, throwing his hands up. “No medication! I don’t want to be permanently messed up by taking some strange pill that’ll make me go all loopy!” Niall stood up too, calmly, and reached into her cabinet. A little blue jar full of little white, round pills was produced. He held them out to Louis. 

“These are anti-anxiety pills. They do nothing to affect the chemical makeup of the brain permanently, they just relax the muscles and the body. You only have to take them once a day until the day of the trial, and then take double the dosage the day of the trial. And then you’ll be done with them, I promise. It’s only a temporary solution, and not one I would ever prescribe full-time. You just need a short-term solution, to prevent you from reacting violently and being a danger to those around you. Take them,” Niall pressed the bottle into Louis' hand. 

Louis looked at him skeptically, but accepted the pills. Niall sat back down, had his pen scratch out a line of print, and then looked back at Louis. “Now, Louis, is there anything else you’d like to tell me?” he asked. There were plenty of things Louis wanted to tell Niall, but he didn’t feel like pouring his heart out to someone he was paying $200 an hour to see. He shook his head. Niall stopped writing, and neatly rolled up the parchment and stuffed it into what Louis assumed was his file. It was thicker than he would have preferred. Niall stood up and ushered Louis to the door. He locked eyes with him before he left. 

“Once a day leading up to the trial, twice the dosage the day of the trail, understand?” he instructed. Louis nodded, and after Niall shut the door behind him, did he stare at the little blue bottle of pills, and then chuck them into the gutters, walking away quickly. No way in hell was he going to take some silly little medicine. 

 

Louis' palms were sweaty, but only because it was sweltering outside. He was dressed in his finest suit, his hair carefully styled by Liam. The judge himself had written to Louis the day after him and his friends had been subpoenaed, and advised him to dress sharply, in an effort for the jury to take his testimony more seriously. He hadn’t dressed this nicely since Lottie’s funeral, and he wasn’t even himself then. 

Zayn looked downright uncomfortable in his suit, tugging at his sStylesves and pulling his collar away from his neck. Not only were the suits constraining, but the heat was overwhelming. Louis looked at Liam, and felt weirdly jealous that he could go in a simple summer getup with a light cardigan. He looked at the boys, and pursed his lips. “You both look simply dreadful,” he said simply. 

I should have taken those pills. Should’ve taken those pills dammit, Louis thought to himself, as he sat in the small little alcove where the sequestered witnesses were sent. He was one of the first to arrive. Liam tried to make small talk, but Louis was so afraid that he might say something that would trigger an episode that he threatened to strangle her if he didn’t shut up, which of course made Zayn angry, but one look from Liam shut him up too. 

Louis was actually delighted to see some of the people who had also been summoned by the Ministry to testify. Fizzy, along with Daisy, and to Louis' startled delight, Lottie’s former boyfriend himself. “Tommy!” Liam said, jumping up. Tommy looked as drawn and laid-back as always, but he did smile softly at the sight of Louis, Liam, and Zayn. “Very nice to see you three, as always,” he said, taking a seat opposite of them. Fizzy and Daisy gathered closer. They had not seen each other in months. “How’s the college life?” Liam asked, of course. Zayn waved his hand. “Never mind college, Tommy, what’re you going to say about Sam?!” Zayn waited expectantly, but Tommy pursed his lips at Zayn, and Louis smiled brightly at the memories it brought along. Happy memories, for once. 

“Zayn, why on earth would I tell you what I am going to say about Sam? You gotta remember that he was a teacher at Memorial, and therefore we have to respect him, no matter how difficult that may be,” Tommy trailed off, and before Louis or Zayn could ask him more questions—especially on his strange attitude—the door opened again, and Louis' heart dropped into his stomach. Apparently, so did Zayn’s. Liam’s jaw dropped. 

Only Tommy managed to keep his composure, despite have little reason to. “Harry, I see you’ve been subpoenaed too,” he said calmly. Harry looked striking, Louis couldn’t deny that. He was tall and slender in a suit that accentuated all of the, er, finer details of his body. His hair was styled the same way, and when Harry passed Louis to sit on the far opposite side of the room, Louis could not have missed the clean scent of aftershave. But before Harry moved quickly away from his former classmates he froze. 

Louis could feel Zayn tense up beside him, but Liam lay a hand on his leg. Harry tried to keep his face blank, but Louis saw the anxiety in his eyes, and the way his hands seemed to stretch tight, as if he was trying to prevent them from rolling up into fists. His eyes flitted to Fizzy, Daisy, and the others before finally resting on Louis'. Louis stared back, but it wasn’t a glare, there was no hatred in his stare. How could he hate him, after the huge sincere apology? No, it was more of a gaze, a calm gaze that one would give a passing stranger. 

At Tommy’s words, Harry gave a curt nod, before gliding to the other side of the room, to sit down with some of the other sequestered witnesses that were less likely to have the desire to kill him. Zayn turned to look at Louis. “Mate, he stared at you for a solid ten seconds,” he whispered, while Fizzy worked her magic distracting the others. “You been doing alright?,” Louis heard her say quietly, dreamily. Louis responded to Zayn. 

“So? He was probably just embarrassed. It was pretty awkward,” Zayn gave him a pointed look, as if he didn’t believe it was an innocent stare. What, does he think Harry has a crush on me? Ridiculous, Louis thought. Thankfully, having his friends around him seemed to help keep his thoughts happy and content. He’d just have to keep that frame of mind when he was on the witness stand. 

Suddenly, the door to the courtroom opened, and an official-looking court employee entered the room. He held a piece of parchment, and called out two names. “Zayn Malik and Liam Payne,” he said. Zayn and Liam stood up, gave Louis a worried look, and then followed the employee into the court room, hand in hand. And that’s how it went, two by two, until the only people left in the small alcove were, of course, Louis and Harry. 

Louis wondered fStylestingly how he and Harry kept winding up together, when Harry spoke. “They’re going to charge me,” he said. Louis, not expecting Harry to start a conversation, flinched a little, before turning around and facing Harry. Harry was sitting with his head in his hands, and his eyes looked tortured. “What?’’ Louis said stupidly. Harry stared at him. “Don’t you get it? This is just a way for them to admit that I was a part of an illegal activity when I was fifteen, and then they’ll charge me with that, and then they’ll go on to charge me for crimes against humanity,” Harry went on and on, listing off every single awful thing he had ever done, and it was making Louis sick. 

“Harry, stop it,” he said, but to no avail, Harry did not seem to hear him. He had entered a realm where he was reliving all of his mistakes, his past. The deeper he went, the madder Harry’s eyes became, until he was quite literally hitting himself on the head. Louis, worried, rushed over and caught Harry’s hand. It clung tight to Louis', and it was cold, as if it had no blood supply. That seemed to bring Harry out of his episode. He was breathing heavily, and as he locked eyes with Louis, Louis clearly saw into that void, that fear, and behind it, the desperation. Harry was broken like Louis, but unlike Louis, he didn’t have anyone to put him back together. He was alone. 

“Are you okay?” Louis said, looking down at his hand that was still clutching Harry’s. He was beginning to feel a bit strange. Harry took a deep breath, and ran his free hand through his curls. When he did, his sStylesve caught a bit, and Louis caught a glimpse of what he knew to be scars from cutting. He ignored them. 

“You know what my therapist diagnosed me with?” he said, not looking at Louis, but not dropping his hand either. Louis sat down next to Harry. He felt sorry for him, and he felt the least he could do was listen. “What?” Louis prompted. Harry turned to face him, and his face was crumpled in pain. “Survivor’s guilt,” he said. It made sense, really. If Louis were on the opposite side of a battle that he didn’t want to be a part of, and he watched his friends and former classmates die for an unworthy cause, and he didn’t die, he’d feel awful every second of every day. That’s what Harry was going through. It may not be PTSD, but it’s just as damn painful. 

“I should’ve died, Louis, don’t you get that?” Harry looked away from Louis, his hand still clutching Louis'. “I’m sure you wish I had,” Louis felt a bit frustrated at that. He didn’t want anyone to die, not even Harry. In a move that shocked even him, he took his free hand and pulled Harry’s face towards him. Harry didn’t protest. “Harry,” he said Harry’s name, and it felt weird rolling off of his tongue. “I’m glad you didn’t die,” he said. Harry looked shocked, taken aback, but he didn’t lean away. His eyes became misty, and Louis had never seen nor expected to see Harry in this state. 

It was strange, the emotions running through him. Nowhere could he find an ounce of hatred or contempt for this boy, despite what kind of person he had been. Instead he felt pity, or maybe sympathy, but it was something different. It felt familiar. It felt like an animal in his chest, an animal that was clawing his way out, attempting to make himself known. 

And then it dawned on Louis. This animal was the same one that reared its head sixth year when Louis was in love with Nick. But why was it making a reappearance now? Louis certainly did not have romantic feelings for Harry Styles. How could he? He had never identified as gay, but then, again, he never really noticed boys much, Nick being the exception. And as he focused on Harry’s eyes, he did feel a stirring deep down. What was happening. 

And Harry was staring back at him, and before Louis knew it, he was lying face up on the couch he had been sitting on, and Harry Styles was on top of him, and his lips were pressed against Louis'. Louis' eyes were wide open, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t kiss back, his heart was racing, he was so damn confused. And so he did the only thing he could think of.

He shoved Harry off of him. Harry flew back, startled, and took a moment to react. When he did, his face became extremely red, and a look of pure embarrassment rested on his face. Louis rubbed his mouth, trying to rid the pressure of Harry’s lips, but it was impossible. He could still feel them. “What the hell was that?!” he cried. 

He was so shocked, he couldn’t even wrap his brain around what had just expired. Just as Harry opened to his mouth to hopefully explain, the door opened again, and the court employee summoned Harry and Louis into the courtroom. 

 

The room was round, and the ceiling was so high Louis wasn’t even sure there was a roof. About a hundred jurors were sitting in a semi-circle in the back of the courtroom, and on the floor of the courtroom were all those who had already testified, or who were just watching, observing. The judge sat in the Prime Minister’s perch, towering over everyone. He gave Louis an encouraging nod as both he and Harry sat in the two opposite witness stands. 

And there, sitting with his attorney, at the front of the room, in front of the audience, sat Sam Gills. Louis' insides twisted with fear at the sight of him, but he tried to keep himself calm. He was well-dressed, and his hair was in its usual style, but Louis could tell he was afraid. He tried to hide it, trying to keep his lizard-like face smooth and blank, but his eyes flitted around her nervously, and every now and then Louis saw his calm demeanor falter. He was handcuffed, which made Louis feel strangely happy. Serves him right. 

Suddenly, a woman with brown hair and chocolate brown eyes appeared, dressed in what was probably a very expensive suit, and her shoes echoed around the room whenever he moved. “Welcome, Mr. Tomlinson, and Mr. Styles,” he said, addressing the entire room, rather than Louis and Harry directly. He looked up at the Judge. “May I proceed now, your Honor?” he asked. Louis wiped his hands on his seat, which didn’t work at all, but he was nervous. 

He tried not looking at Sam, but his bright, sickly white getup was distracting, and eye-grabbing. Louis tried to find Zayn and Liam in the sea of witnesses, but he couldn’t. And he was also afraid that Zayn would be able to tell something was off. Louis never was good at hiding his feelings. He looked to his left, and saw Harry, who glanced his way. Louis looked away immediately, but felt a little better, knowing that Harry was just as anxious as he was. 

“Proceed, Miss Clark,” the judge said, gesturing for the woman to continue. She gave the judge a polite nod, and then began pacing the room. “You have all heard testimony from key witnesses, the most significant being from Mr. Payne, who had a firsthand account of the atrocities Mr. Sam Gills committed against such gentle and friendly creatures such as the students, but now we must move on to more pressing matters. Your client, Mr. Donahue, has been accused of committing hate crimes and harassment, sexual harassment, to be specific. And therefore, I call my next witness, Harry Styles,” The woman, Miss Clark, twisted to turn to face Harry, and Louis had to admit, she looked extremely formidable. 

They way her eyes pierced Harry’s, it seemed impossible to lie to her. Hard as Louis tried, his mind kept redirecting his thoughts to the kiss. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt. He didn’t feel violated, he felt shocked. Surprised, in awe, dumbfounded, basically everything except violated. And Harry had kissed him, and Harry wasn’t known to do rash things, so Louis must’ve been giving off signals. But he wasn’t gay, was he? To be honest, Louis had never really thought about his sexuality all that much. He’d always considered himself bi, but had he ever really denied that he was gay? The answer was no. But now was not the time to be questioning his sexuality, as he was in a court of law, and was about to testify. He focused his attention on the attorney, Miss Clark. 

“Alright, Mr. Styles. Can you tell me what your fifth year experience at Memorial was?” she asked. Harry answered somewhat easily, his voice slightly shaky. “Um, it was pretty uneventful. I mostly minded my own business, stayed in the background,” Harry’s eyes were trained on the floor. Sam was staring haughtily at Harry, his hands struggling against his restraints. Louis searched again, desperately, for Liam and Zayn, because he was beginning to lose his cool up on that stand, with everyone staring at him. And he wasn’t even testifying yet. 

Finally, he found them. They were towards the back, to the left, holding each other’s hands. When Louis made eye contact with them, Liam gave him a small smile of support, and Zayn gave him a thumbs up. That made Louis feel a bit better, seeing his friends. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Miss Clark continued to interrogate Harry. “Can you explain what exactly the ‘Pretty Committee’ was, Mr. Styles, and why you chose to join it?” 

At this Harry’s face drained of color, his pale skin white as snow. His emerald, clouded eyes, glanced towards Louis, who was watching him carefully now. He was interested in Harry’s answer. Harry swallowed, but answered smoothly. He, like Louis, probably thought it best not to resist. “It was a group organized by Sam that included Memorial students. Our job was to find and put a stop to illegal activity happening in the school. I joined it because I liked have an elevated position in the school. I liked having power, and being able to scare the other students,” Harry looked wholeheartedly ashamed at hearing his own words, and made an effort to keep his eyes trained on the floor. 

Miss Clark nodded, pacing a bit more, and then addressing the jury once more. “Let us move on, shall we?” he said. Louis didn’t like Miss Clark, even though he was fighting to charge Sam. The way he pranced around, as if he was better than everyone else. Miss Clark turned to face Harry again. He had broken out into a noticeable sweat, probably anticipating what was coming. “Tell me, Mr. Styles, did Mr. Gills ever attempt to harass or hurt anyone in front of you and onto another fellow student?” he asked. Louis knew exactly what he was talking about, and he knew what Harry would say. 

“Yes,” he said simply. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white. Louis wasn’t quite sure why Harry was so nervous. He was telling the truth. And then it dawned on Louis. He had to force himself to stay still, because he knew exactly what Miss Clark was going to do next. She was going to make him into an accessory. “So, Mr. Styles, by admitting that Mr. Gills did, in fact, try to sexually harass the late Miss Tomlinson, you also admit that you did nothing to stop it, correct?” he said. Harry’s eyes scanned the room, resting on Louis'. He looked hopeless, fearful. He tried resisting the potion, his neck straining and the veins popping out, but it was no use. 

“You’re correct. I did nothing to stop it,” he said stiffly, through gritted teeth. Miss Clark nodded, a small look of approval on her face. It infuriated Louis, the way he was destroying Harry, in front of the entire courtroom. “And so, in turn, you did not report to the court that Mr. Gills had broken the law, and therefore perhaps, helped lead him to indirectly killing a student, Miss Lottie Tomlinson, out of pure evil?” he said, but the judge interrupted her. 

“What is your point, Hannah?” he asked. Miss Clark—Hannah—peered up at the jury. “My point, your Honor, is that Mr. Styles was an accessory to Mr. Gills’s crimes of sexual harassment, and I believe therefore, that he must be charged as well, in accordance-,” But Louis cut her off. 

He jumped out of his seat. “Stop it!” he cried, silencing the entire courtroom. Harry looked at Louis, shocked but somewhat grateful. The judge twisted to face him, a look of interest on his face, while the rest of the courtroom stared at him, waiting to hear what he was going to say. Hannah Clark crossed her arms and looked around her in disbelief. “Excuse me?” he began to say, but the judge held up his hand. “Do you have something you’d like to say, Mr. Tomlinson?” he asked. Louis took a deep breath, and didn’t take a moment to contemplate, because he knew if he did, he’d lose his courage. 

He locked eyes with Sam, who looked very frightened, and glared at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Louis said. Sam tried not to react, but pursed his lips a bit tighter. “You know that you’re going down, but you want to take down as many people with you as you can,” Louis directed his gaze towards Hannah. He glared back at him, furious that he would interrupt her argument. “And you, what awful thing did Harry Styles do to you? Because nobody in their right mind would charge a seventeen-year-old boy for something he did when he was fifteen, something minor, at that. You’re just searching for something to charge him with. In case you’ve forgotten, Harry Styles was cleared of all charges only days after Lottie killed herself!” The whole courtroom flinched, but Louis continued on. 

“Can’t you see that he’s already suffering? Don’t make it worse for him! As for Sam, I feel like this whole thing is a joke, because we all know what he did! He may as well have held up a sign turning himself in. You have his notebooks, you have the students testimony, you have Liam’s testimony. I can show you my scars on my hand, what more evidence do you need?! I’m through listening to you, the person who is supposed to be on our side, destroy a boy who is already broken beyond repair! I’m through!” And with that, Louis climbed over the witness stand, and started to make his way to the exit.  
“Your Honor! You cannot let him leave, he’s been subpoenaed!” Hannah pleaded, trying to get the bailiff to come after Louis. But the judge did not listen to her. “Jury,” he said, making Louis stop. “I ask you now to please consider all that you have heard, and to come to a decision regarding Mr. Gills, and Mr. Gills only, as it is his trial. Mr. Styles, you may step down,” the judge said. 

The courtroom erupted into a buzz of whispers, and Hannah looked as if her head was about to explode. Louis made his way down to where Liam and Zayn were sitting, and they moved over to give him room. He sat down, wearily, and ran a hand through his hair. Zayn looked at him, worried. 

“Mate, are you okay?” he asked. Louis looked at him. “Yeah,” he said. Zayn looked at again, but didn’t say anything. Liam reached over, and squeezed Louis' hand. “You’re a good person, Louis,” he said. But Louis didn’t know if what he did was because he was a kind, good-natured person who hated seeing anyone suffer, or because he had feelings for Harry. He was so confused. So confused. 

 

“Isn’t it wonderful, Louis?” Liam said from across the table at the local cafe. Louis, who was sulking back in his chair and not really celebrating, gave Liam a half-hearted nod. Liam’s face fell, and he pulled his beer closer. “What is going on with you?” Zayn asked, moving his chair away from Liam and closer to him. Louis barely looked up at him, too deep in thought to focus on something as mundane as the sentencing of Sam Gills. 

“Nothing, just thinking,” he murmured softly, his hand resting on his chin. His glasses were slipping and the upper edges of his vision were blurry, but that was okay. Louis was thinking deeply and intensely about Harry Styles, and all the questions he brought with him. Louis knew that if he were straight or even bisexual, he wouldn’t be questioning his sexuality this much, so he must be gay. But whenever Harry’s face was paired up against Jack’s in his mind, Louis kept being attracted to Harry.

He knew for a fact, however, that Harry was gay. It just made sense. Louis had only seen him with a girl twice, and never was it romantic. Other than that he always associated himself with his male cronies. Harry was very flamboyant his entire time at Memorial, and he always put forth a huge effort to bully Louis. Was that Harry’s own, sick version of flirting? Maybe Harry knew that Louis didn’t have feelings for him, and coped with that by constantly, incessantly bullying Louis and his friends. But that didn’t make sense either, because Harry bullied anyone who wasn’t white or a rich. 

All the thoughts were beginning to hurt Louis' head, and he was afraid he’d have another episode, so before Zayn or Liam could question him further, Louis made up a lousy excuse and left the cafe, heading straight to his home. His childhood home. 

The house, while never truly abandoned, hadn’t had permanent residence since the everything had happened, with only a few relatives stopping in here and there and staying for only a few days time. When Louis entered, it was cleaner than usual, but a fine layer of dust covered everything. The housekeeper must’ve caught on that it was no use up-keeping a house that was hardly ever lived in. 

When Louis entered, the housekeeper appeared almost instantaneously, and curtsied low at Louis' feet. “Mr. Tomlinson, it’s been a long time,” he said. Louis took off his cloak and hung it on a hook. “Nice to see you again, Eva. Do you mind starting a fire? I think I’m going to lay low here for a while,” Louis said. Eva scuttled down the winding hallway until Louis entered the living room, with its high ceilings and cobwebby chandelier. He collapsed onto one of the two couches, a puff of dust rising above him, which he lazily blew away from him. 

“Have you heard about Sam getting sentenced to a lifetime of imprisonment?” Eva asked, lighting a match and making a fire appear. The warmth and glowing light made Louis feel a bit better. He closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers across them. “I was at the trial,” he said. Eva bustled around him, taking off Louis' shoes and readjusting his pillows. 

“I’ll go make you some dinner now, you just rest,” Eva said, already stepping out. Louis almost let her go, but then he surprised himself by making an odd request. “Can you send for a Mr. Harry Styles?” he asked. Eva almost choked from astonishment, but nodded at the request, before stepping out and leaving Louis. 

Louis just couldn’t spend another second mulling over Harry Styles. He had come to conclusion that he needed to see Harry in the flesh and discuss things with him to be able to come to a clear decision on how he felt. After all, he did have PTSD, so he could very well have other problems mentally. 

“Mr. Tomlinson, a Mr. Styles is here to see you!” Eva called from the entryway. Louis nervously jumped up, shoved on his shoes, and looked down in horror at the state of himself. He tried his best to smooth his pants, and tidy his hair, but in the end he didn’t really care. Try as he might, he had spent that last day and half thinking endlessly about Harry Styles, and he found himself looking forward to seeing him again. 

Louis turned the corner and saw Harry. His heart slowed, and he felt himself smile. “Thank you Eva, just give us a minute,” Louis said, waving for Eva to leave. Eva nodded, and then disappeared around the corner. Louis stood and stared at Harry for a moment, before clearing his throat. “Thank you for coming,” he said softly. Harry looked around, confused, but, to Louis' surprise, happy. “I was shocked to get your message, especially after,” Harry trailed off, looking away from Louis. 

Louis stepped closer, desperate to be able to smell the clean scent of aftershave on Harry’s neck. “That’s actually why I asked you here today. I’ve been having some very, er, confusing thoughts and I need your help clearing them up,” Louis said, inviting Harry into the sitting room. Harry followed Louis, his silver eyes flitting to and fro, taking in the scene around him. 

“What is this place?” he asked, sitting across from Louis. Louis looked around himself. “This is my childhood home,” he explained. Harry nodded, removing his cloak. Louis had to keep his eyes from wandering, because Harry was wearing a fantastic black suit that emphasized his physique, and seeing him like that almost made Louis confirm his own suspicions on his sexuality without even needing to speak to Harry. 

“So,” Louis said, leaning back a bit, and trying to stay calm. Harry gazed back at him. “So,” he said back. Louis pursed his lips, unsure of what to say next. “Let me guess,” Harry said, startling Louis. Louis waited, scared of what Harry was going to say. “I kissed you, and now you’re wondering if I’m gay. Well, I’ll go ahead and tell you. Yes, yes I am. I am not ashamed of that fact, and if you are, well, Lord knows I deserve a taste of my own medicine, so feel free to make fun of me and shame me all you want,” Harry said all of this in one breath, and it took Louis a moment to process. 

The conversation was not going as Louis had expected. “Um,” he said, trying to bridge the silence. He was frozen, and if he was honest with himself, his heart was racing, and that familiar feeling of victory was in his chest. Harry was gay. Which meant that Louis was gay, because no straight person would jump with joy on finding out that their former adversary was gay. “I was actually trying to figure out if I was gay,” he said. 

Harry hesitated, and then his eyes popped and he blushed so intensely it made Louis want to touch Harry’s cheek. He looked away, embarrassed, and wrung his hands together. He stuttered a bit, but then, after a few moments, gained his composure. He smoothed his face, and gazed at Louis once more. “And have you come to a conclusion?” he asked. Louis sensed that Harry was trying to keep his voice smooth, but it shook a bit. Louis hesitated this time, trying to find the right words. 

And then he realized he didn’t need words to convey his decision. And with that Louis lunged at Harry, closing the space between them, and crashed into him, feverishly pressing his lips against Harry’s, and putting all the unspoken words into the kiss, and pulling Harry closer, because goddammit, Louis was not going to let this slip through his fingers. 

 

“I should go,” Harry said, his hair messy, and his suit wrinkled. He hesitated by the door to the entryway, looking disheveled and, to Louis, overwhelmingly sexy. “Or you could stay,” Louis said from the couch. His heart was still racing from the passion and the intensity of what had just expired. How could he live without the heat of Harry next to him, how he could last without feeling those soft lips against his, and most importantly, how could he be without the feeling of companionship, of love, of compassion? The answer was simple. He couldn’t. 

Harry turned back to face Louis. “This doesn’t mean we’re together,” he said. Louis propped himself up on his elbows. “I’m not a child, Harry, I know that,” he replied. Harry ran a hand through his sweaty hair, causing Louis' heart to speed up. Harry sighed, and sat his cloak back down. “To be honest, I’d rather be here than where I’m staying,” he said, looking down at Louis and swallowing. Louis sat up, pulling the sheets with him. “And where is that?” he asked. 

Harry sat down next to him. He was close. Really close. His thigh touched Louis', and their shoulders almost collided. Louis liked it. But beneath the initial satisfaction was confusion. What did all of this mean? Were he and Harry on good terms now, or were they simply ignoring their past, letting bygones be bygones? Louis knew the topic would crop up eventually, but for now, he was basking in bliss and ignorance. 

“Um, just a small flat up north,” Harry answered. Louis tried to imagine Harry living in a one bedroom flat, as opposed to his gigantic mansion he was raised in, and the image makes Louis want to laugh, but he doesn’t. “What about your parents?” Louis asked, but the moment the words came out of his mouth he knew he had hit a tender chord. Harry’s face became paler, and he clenched his hands in fists. “I don’t speak to them,” he spat, clearly not wanting to talk about it. And so Louis didn’t press it. He was beginning to feel the tension rise and the passion diminishing. He didn’t want to, but he knew that he needed to get up, get dressed, and have a serious chat with Harry. 

Louis was determined not to turn what had happened into a one night stand. He deserved better than that. “Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll get dressed, and we’ll talk some things out,” Louis suggested, standing up, letting the sheets fall away from him. It took Harry a moment to gather his words, but he agreed, after sweeping his eyes up and down Louis. Louis, feeling quite proud, pranced up the stairs to his bedroom, and pulled on clean clothes. 

When he bounded down the stairs, he found Harry in the kitchen, with Eva bustling about him, not speaking. Louis entered, and sat down across from Harry. Eva sat a cup of tea in front of Louis, gave him a strange look, and then disappeared. Louis turned back to Harry. Harry stared back at him, and it took a lot of strength to keep Louis from flying across the table and repeating what happened the previous night. 

“I’m still so, so angry with you, Harry,” Louis began, and it was true, he was still angry. But it was a muted anger, and Louis knew it wouldn’t take long before he exasperated it. Harry held up a hand.

Louis clears his throat and continues, trying to keep a single train of thought. “The things you’ve done, the people you’ve hurt, it’s completely unforgivable, but I forgave you, which must mean something, but I’m still so confused. About me, my feelings for you, and how am I supposed to know that you aren’t the same cruel, cold, and calculating boy I went to school with?” Louis exclaimed. Harry sat down his mug, and stared hard at Louis. 

“You can’t possibly know if I’m the same person or not,” he said, which made Louis scoff and lean back in his chair, but Harry continued. “However, I will make it my mission to prove to you that I have changed. It may take years, but I’m willing for it to take that long, if it means being with you. I,” He trailed off, but then shook his head slightly and continued. “I’ve been in love with you since our first day at Memorial. When you rejected me, I took that pain, that loss, and turned it into something infinitely worse. I bullied you, harassed your friends, and I’m not saying that’s an excuse for the things I said, but you need to understand that I was raised under a sheltered, prejudiced life, and I didn’t know any better. When I got older, I did begin to understand, but you have no idea, by then, the power that my father, that he wielded, the influence he had. I had death hanging over me,” 

Harry eyes were watering, and he looked desperately at Louis, for some sign of understanding, but Louis didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t believe his ears, not for one second, because the things Harry said were completely uncharacteristic of Harry, and it wouldn’t surprise Louis if this whole thing was a ruse, a scheme to expose Louis as gay to the world. 

But then Harry grasped Louis' hand suddenly, and Louis felt the pressure of truth. He swallowed. “I have to admit, Harry, that was a pretty epic speech, and I’m not quite sure how to follow,” he said, breaking the tension. Harry laughed a nervous little laugh, and released Louis' hands. He sat back in his chair. Louis spoke this time. “It’s hard, because I feel for you and me both that we can say we’re sorry and remorseful all we want, but I feel that the only way to truly prove to each other that the past is in the past and we aren’t the same people is to just be together, and maybe even fall in love, but I think becoming friends would be a good first step, don’t you?” Louis suggested, looking through his eyelashes at Harry. 

Harry hesitated, but not for long, and then he gave a small little smile. “We’d have benefits, wouldn’t we?” he asked, and Louis, blushing, grinned back and waved his mug away with a flick of his wand. “Well, of course,” he whispered seductively, leaning across the table. 

 

Having Harry Styles around significantly reduced the amount of episodes Louis had. After the first few weeks of friendship—with benefits—Louis and Harry stopped going to group therapy altogether. Louis knew that eventually he’d have to return Niall the Therapist’s messages, but he’d hold off for as long as he could. He also knew that at some point he’d have to just come out to Zayn and Liam, because he was getting the feeling that, “I need some space” was losing its touch. 

And it’s not like Louis and Harry stayed shut up in his childhood home all of the time. They could be found often at the Starbucks down the road, or in the shopping square, enjoying each other’s company and slowly, slowly, falling in love. As of yet, Louis hadn’t had an episode in front of Harry, and he wasn’t looking forward to the day it inevitably happened. He and Harry were sneaking around London, and Harry had dragged Louis all the way to the London Eye. In the back of Louis' mind, a little voice warned him of what would happen if he went back to that place where he had first had his episode, but Harry was whispering lustfully in Louis' ear, and he couldn’t deny the opportunity that was presenting itself. 

“Come on,’’ Harry said, pulling Louis up the stairs to his room. Louis was chuckling and felt like a very juvenile teenage boy, but he was having fun. Louis and Harry emerged in the bedroom, and Harry shoved Louis up against the wall. “Let’s turn this old place into something naughty, shall we?” he muttered against Louis' neck, and Louis couldn’t stop Harry, he was so aroused. And it was okay until Harry’s lips moved down Louis' chest, and Louis had full view of the room. The bed was still broken from when Louis had smashed his hand against it the first time his father beat him, and their were still little blood stains from the first time he cut.

His muscles began to tense up, and his pupils dilated. Harry, who no doubt thought it was Louis' reaction to be stimulated by his lips, did nothing, but Louis felt his heart drop. He tried doing what Niall and Connor had said, tried to focus on what was real, what was happening, but it didn’t matter. Despite what Harry was doing down there, Louis was losing himself. 

His palms became sweaty, his eyes unfocused, and then he was five months in the past. He was in the same room, but he didn’t feel Harry anymore, and instead, he felt a presence behind him. But he couldn’t turn to see who it was. And then suddenly, his sister was bounding towards him. At first, Louis felt overwhelming joy at seeing Lottie again, but it lasted only seconds, because then he heard a high-pitched crazed laugh from the being behind him, and he knew who it was. Sam Gills crept around him, his finger poking him in the ribs, and he laughed once more. He spoke, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out, only horrible, wretched sounds. 

Lottie looked at Louis, and tried reaching out to him. Louis reached back, but something was restraining his arm. Sam got closer and closer to Lottie, and Lottie began to scream for help from Louis, and Louis couldn’t get closer, and he began to scream too, because he could not, would not watch his sister die in front of him again. But then Lottie’s screams changed, and the voice was Harry’s, and it was over as quickly as it had begun. 

Louis felt himself on the floor of his bedroom, being held by someone. He was screaming Lottie’s name, and his eyes and hands were clenched shut, and he felt wetness on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Louis, it’s okay, it’s okay, shh,” Harry was saying, and Louis tried to stop sobbing, but he couldn’t, because he had just seen his sister again, and it had been both wonderful and horrible. 

Harry squeezed Louis tighter, and Louis finally opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Harry’s chest. He then felt Harry’s arms around Louis, holding him close, keeping him safe. Louis slowly lifted himself up, and found Harry’s face. Harry looked very distressed, with tears glistening in the moonlight, and he opened his mouth to speak. “I’m so sorry, Louis, I shouldn’t have brought you here, I didn’t even think about the impact it’d have on you,” he said, his hands fluttering around Louis, and finally resting on Louis' own hands. Louis clutched at them, desperate to keep some sense of what was reality. He felt a few more tears roll down his cheeks. “It was awful, Harry,” he said, and then burst into tears again. Harry looked helpless, but pulled Louis into a hug. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry, desperate for a sense of safety. And so Harry held him while he sobbed, and he didn’t judge him and he didn’t blame him, and he just stayed there, and he understood. He didn’t ask Louis to tell him how he was feeling, and he didn’t ask him what he had seen, he just let Louis grieve and mourn and react to what had happened. 

Where therapy failed, Harry succeeded. 

 

“And now I’m here,” Louis said, resting his hands on his knees and leaning back on the couch. Niall didn’t respond immediately, instead he kind of stared at Louis, as if he were a completely different person. Louis began to feel awkward, but he looked next to him at Harry, who gave him an encouraging nod. He faced Niall again. 

He blinked a few times, but then nodded slowly. “Um, okay then. So, just to be clear, you never took your medication?” he asked. Louis faltered. What the hell? He had divulged literally everything that had happened over the past four months, and he chose to ask about fucking medication?! What the hell was the matter with him? Louis had told his therapist that he had quit group therapy, discovered he was gay, repeatedly hooked up with his ex-worst enemy, and he decided to worry about the stupid little pills that Louis didn’t take? He needed to find a new therapist. 

“Uh, no, I didn’t. But you saw the tape of the trial. I was fine,” Louis replied. Niall tsked his tongue, sitting up straighter. His natural roots were beginning to piss Louis off. “Louis, you were not fine by any means. You shouted in the middle of the court and disrupted the entire process,” he began. Louis went on the defensive. “I was trying to keep Harry from being prosecuted, is that a crime?” he cried, his voice getting louder. Harry rested a hand on Louis' knee, effectively calming him down. He gave him a sideways glance, and felt a bit of the anger leave him. 

Niall leaned forward. “Your actions, Louis, they seem to me to be very rash, and I feel like you aren’t taking any time to contemplate your decisions and think of every possible outcome,” he explained, trying to sound sincere but to Louis, he just sounded whiney. He wanted to leave. “Look, Niall,” Louis said, standing up suddenly. Harry followed suit, though a bit more slowly. “I came here to update you on what was going on in my life, and I just wanted to be able to talk to someone who I didn’t think was going to judge me, but obviously I was wrong. I’m not seeing you anymore, so don’t contact me, okay? Let’s go, Harry,” Louis said, taking Harry’s hand, and pulling him towards him. 

Louis half-expected Niall to just let them leave, but he stopped him. “You know, Louis, I really wanted you to be a success story, but now I can see that all you are is a confused, cowardly little boy,” he seethed, and then waved his hand, shoving Louis and Harry out of his office and slamming the door behind them. Louis, fuming, spun to face Harry. He pointed his finger at him sharply. “Don’t ever let me listen to you again,” he spit, striding away from Harry. Harry groaned and chased after him. “I was just trying to be a good friend Louis, I thought it’d be healthy,” Louis skidded to a stop, groaning louder than Harry. 

He threw up his hands, twisting around. “Oh for fucks sake, will you drop the ‘friend’ charade? You and I both know that we’re more than that. Friends don’t fuck each other, trust me, otherwise I’d have slept with a lot of my friends before you,” he shouted, his voice echoing across the corridor. Harry looked around nervously, before placing his hands on Louis' forearms and locking eyes with him. 

“Look, Tomlinson,” he said, a bit of venom seeping into his voice. “You don’t think that I don’t want to call you my boyfriend? Or to hold your hand in public? And just so you know, I don’t call what we do fucking. I call what we do making love, because if I were fucking you, I don’t think you’d want to cuddle up next to me afterward and I don’t think I would want to cry from happiness when we’re finished, either,” 

Harry’s words were arousing Louis, and he knew they rang true. He swallowed, trying to think of a response, but coming up short. “That was a really nice speech,” Louis whispered. Harry tried to keep his face serious, but Louis saw the corners of his lips turn upward. Louis smirked back at him, and let Harry kiss him, even though they were in public. “Hey,” Louis murmured after. “You wanna go home and make love, you sappy romantic?” Harry chuckled, and held tight to Louis, and the two disappeared.


End file.
